


Limousine

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Mutantstuck [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Mutantstuck, i really don't want to tag this y'all but if you want one added hmu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: "Right. Awesome. You can go out and look pretty, I'll just stay in here and panic—""D.""—maybe throw up, I feel like that's definitely still on the table—""D.""—like why the fuck I thought this was a good idea, I should have gone with the whole Wiseau persona back when the first one came out instead of trying to—"D Strider and his brother have a conversation on the way to his first big movie premiere.
Series: Mutantstuck [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1309922
Comments: 9
Kudos: 93





	Limousine

This is not good. This is fuckin' sub-optimal. This is— "Yo, Bro?" 

"Uh-huh." See, he doesn't sound concerned yet. It'd be nice if he did. Or if he actually looked up from his phone at all. Then again, he did go for the mirrored shades for tonight; even two feet away from him in this stupid goddamn limo, you can't quite tell where he's _really_ looking. Could be at his phone, could be at you, could be out the fuckin' window. 

_Not_ cool. "Bro. Dude." 

"Yep." Still doesn't look up. 

" _Bro._ " 

"What?" 

"I think I'm about to throw up on you." 

Well, that does get him to look at you. Bastard's face doesn't even sort of show what he's thinking; you love your brother, but that shit's _hella_ annoying. "You don't even get carsick." 

"Really? That's what you're going to single out as a problem here?"

"I mean. I'm right, ain't I?" 

"Fuck off." Dear lord you are glad that the car is moving so he can't just open the door and take you up on that one. You'd lose all motivation to ever leave the vehicle if he wasn't there to bully you into it, and even when he is— "I literally can't do this, man." 

"Yeah, well, too late for that now. You made a movie, you got the hype, now we both get to go smile for the cameras." And he fucking _smirks_ at you. That's a god damn _smirk._ "I mean, _I_ ain't gonna smile, but I guess I don't got a problem standing there 'n lookin' pretty." 

"Right. Awesome. You can go out and look pretty, I'll just stay in here and panic—" 

"D." 

"—maybe throw up, I feel like that's definitely still on the table—" 

"D." 

"—like why the fuck I thought this was a good idea, I should have gone with the whole Wiseau persona back when the first one came out instead of trying to—" 

Rather than repeat your name again, he groans, tossing his phone across the seat. You track it automatically, the less-panicked slice of your brain wondering if it's going to slide just a bit too far and end up lost somewhere in the depths of under-the-seat-land (and if you can use that as an excuse to not fucking leave the car.) But no, sadly, it just wedges itself next to the mid-seat cupholder. A great opportunity for getting out of shit, wholly fucking ruined—

You lose your train of thought when Bro leans across the small space that separates the two of you so he can put both hands on your shoulders. He's just trying to get you to pay attention, but good lord this is awkward. Why the hell would anyone voluntarily choose to be in this position. This shit isn't calming at all. 

"Alright, I don't know if you know this but like. This isn't helping." 

"Tough shit. Focus, D." 

"I'm focusing, didn't you get that? I'm focusing on how this is _absolutely_ going to be a clusterfuck." 

"First off, it ain't gonna be a clusterfuck unless you decide to take your pants off or some shit, and I don't think you're gonna do that. Second off, don't focus on that, dumbass." 

"That's the thing that's currently about to be happening, what the fuck _else_ am I supposed to be focusing on?" 

"Hm." His head tilts so you get a glimpse of amber eyes for a second, his hands come off your shoulders and his arms cross as he leans back. Great, the honestly concerned bro's been replaced by the normal persona again. Very helpful. 

"Are you about to give me a bullshit pep talk." 

"Maybe." 

Yeah, _very_ helpful. "I'm going to give that a hard pass." 

"Nope." 

"Damnit." 

He chuckles. It's the kind of low, nonchalant sound that literally no one just _makes_ —it is literally not fucking possible for it to be more obvious that he's playing a god damn part for your benefit. "Hey, you signed up for this when you asked me along." 

"I _told_ you, you got the choice of either letting me put your name on the movie—" 

"Nah." 

"—or coming with me to the goddamn premiere." 

"Yeah, much rather play bodyguard-slash-motivational speaker if I have a choice." 

"You're terrible at _at least_ one of those." 

"Not my fault you wouldn't let me accessorize with a couple blades. We both know it'd be hot as hell...anyway, _I_ ain't going out there by myself—you're the big-ass star writer/director here—and we sure as shit ain't just calling the whole thing off. You put me in a god damn _suit_ for this." 

"You look good in a suit." 

"Fuck that shit, I look like the wrong kind of porn star in a suit his nice respectable bro picked out for him. If you're gonna shoehorn me into dressing like a douche, you're damn well going to follow through on it." 

Unfair. He actuallly does have a point—you spent a good half hour cajoling him through every step of getting dressed in something slightly more presentable than the jeans and polo he thought he was going to get away with. "You always look like a douche." 

"Fuck you, I got _style._ " 

"Sure, sure you do." Unlike his, your shades aren't mirrored and are only very lightly tinted—part of your persona for the night involves making people doubletake, check to see if your eyes are _really_ that color. The practical result of that right now is that you know that he can see you rolling your eyes at him. "We're really doing this, huh?" 

Across the seat, your brother flashes you one of his rare but always-amazing smiles. "You're fuckin' making this shit happen." 

And yeah. As the limo rolls to a stop and the driver's door slams, you....you guess you really are.


End file.
